


Late Nights At The Hanged Man

by DragonbornDiary



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Drinking, Drinking Games, F/M, Fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-29
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-17 19:08:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4678034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonbornDiary/pseuds/DragonbornDiary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Varric's suite at The Hanged Man was home to many memorable times for him and his seven friends. But it wasn't often that he could get them all corralled there at once. One particular evening reminds Varric that he may want to be more selective about scheduling his companions' visits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Late Nights At The Hanged Man

**Author's Note:**

> A scene that I have been imagining and giggling at for far too long now. That usually means something is begging to be written.
> 
> Set during Act II.
> 
> Enjoy.

Late nights with his friends at the Hanged Man were too few and far between in Varric’s opinion. If he could have had his way he and his seven companions would spend most nights like this; crowded around his table with cards in their hands, ale in their stomachs, and laughter on their lips. Tonight’s games of Wicked Grace had everyone chuckling when during the last hand Merrill had tricked Sebastian into folding what would have been the winning hand when she whispered to Aveline, “It’s good to have this many serpents, right?”

Sebastian, having heard Merrill’s mutterings, threw down his cards groaning in defeat knowing that his hand wouldn’t surpass her multiple serpents. 

“Wait, you’re giving up? I won?” Merrill happily asked and then showed Sebastian her cards. “I didn’t even have any serpents,” she exclaimed with glee and hoarded her winnings.

“I can’t believe you fell for that, Choir Boy,’ Varric stated. “Have I taught you nothing?”

“Ah, it’s not that. You just can’t trust a maleficar.”

“They get you every time,” Fenris agreed, to which Merrill replied with her tongue pushed through her lips pointing in his direction. Fenris rolled his eyes at her childish behavior, but Varric saw a tug at the corners of his mouth. The elf was actually having fun.

“Hey, watch how loud you say that word,” Hawke chided. “You never know when one of those pesky Chantry boys is hanging around, listening to our conversations, waiting to drag us mages to the gallows.”

“My apologies, messere. If I see any of those pesky Chantry boys I’ll be sure to let him know that all of us here are only skilled swordsmen and archers.”

“Very good. It’d be a shame if the Grand Cleric were to find out that one of her Chantry boys was spending his night at this lowly tavern gambling his money away to a maleficar.”

“Maker forbid,” Sebastian said as he clinked his cup with Hawke’s before they both took a drink of their ale.

“You know, when Hawke says maleficar it doesn’t sound insulting,” Merrill mused.

“Hawke is quite skilled with getting away with things around here,” Anders added.

“Oh, don’t be jealous. We can’t all be born with such astounding gifts and talents,” Hawke said.

“We also all can’t have the captain of the guard in our pockets.” Isabela winked at Aveline who was sitting across from her.

“I see nothing, I hear nothing,” the guard captain said. “And you should all be grateful.”

“To Aveline!” Hawke raised her drink to the center of the table and met her friends’ tankards for a toast.

“So, Merrill, what will you do with your winnings? Finally buy those shoes with the leather soles?” Aveline asked while Merrill slipped her coins into her bag.

“Oh, yes, shoes. I could buy shoes. Or I could go to the Hightown Market and buy more of those cheese puffs that Hawke brought tonight. Are there any of them left?”

“I ate the last one,” Anders answered around a mouthful of dough.

“Try the last four,” Aveline corrected.

“I’m sure if Hawke had eaten the last four you wouldn’t have said that with such venom,” Anders said while trying to swallow the bit of cheesy, doughy goodness.

“That’s not true. I would have called her a pig straight to her face.”

“It’s true, she would have. In fact, she has. There was a chocolate incident a few months back that I don’t think she’ll ever forgive me for,” Hawke explained.

“They were addressed to the guard captain. Not the new scion of the Amell family. And you still owe me for that.” 

“Are you talking about that tiny box of perfection from Val Royeaux that you were snacking on? Those were to die for,” Isabela said.

“You had some, too?” Aveline asked, surprised.

“I walked in on her while she was stuffing her face with them. She had to share at that point,” Isabela answered.

“Hawke.” Aveline spoke Hawke’s name as more of a slur than anything else.

“I know, I know. I’m a scoundrel of the deepest imaginings. I don’t deserve to live. And blah, blah, blah. I’ll buy you some more,” Hawke said, animatedly.

“You want Orlesian chocolate? I know a guy who can get you a great price. It may not be the freshest, but you won’t have to lose your estate over foreign confections,” Varric offered.

“We can offer him Isabela’s services, then we won’t have to pay him anything.”

“Excuse me,” Isabela chided her friend, who was sitting at her left. “I won’t just sleep with anyone. Even if it is for Orlesian chocolate. I do have standards, you know.”

“Where?” Hawke asked. “Where are they?” She started making a show of looking under the table and then under her folded hand of cards. Picking up her empty tankard she peered inside and said, “Nope. Not in there.” Then she turned to her left and grabbed Fenris’ ear, pulling him to her, pretending to inspect his ear closely. “Not in there, either. Quick, everyone, start looking around. Supposedly, Isabela’s standards are around here somewhere.”

“Well, this could certainly take all night, and some of have work to do in the morning,” Aveline said standing up from the table.

“You can’t leave already,” Varric said. “We all still have coin to win back from Merrill.”

“Varric, she lives in the Alienage. I think I’m content enough to let her keep it.”

“Well, I’m not,” Anders argued. “Some of us live in the sewers. Deal out another hand.”

“Forget the coin. I have something better in mind. Wait here while I grab it,” Isabela offered.

“This better not be a waste of my time,” Aveline said with a sigh and sat back down.

“Oh, I promise it won’t be,” Isabela replied as she left the room.

“Perhaps she is retrieving her standards,” Fenris said as he took the last sip of ale from his cup.

“Or, maybe—“ Hawke said, and leaned in close to the elf beside her to whisper the rest of her statement so that only he could hear. 

The elf’s response was to try to hold back his laughter at what Hawke said until he leaned in to say something of his own to her, to which she giggled. Giggled.

Well, now that was new. Varric thought to himself about the interesting development that was happening at his table. Hawke had always been a bit more flirtatious with the elf as opposed to the others, even as far as favoring him when it came to dishing out the ‘good loot’ from their travels. But her advances seemed to go ignored by Fenris. It was only a couple of months ago that she and him weren’t even speaking to each other. But that only lasted up until a few weeks ago when she asked him to accompany her, Varric, and her brother, Carver to the Vimmark Mountains to help with whatever trouble the Carta had cooked up for her. After they got back from that blighted trip the two of them seemed to be back to their normal behavior with each other. The only difference was Fenris’ new accessories. When Varric asked him about his new Amell crest pinned to his belt the elf explained that it gave him more favor with the nobles. Apparently, Aveline had gotten fewer complaints about his mansion since he started wearing it. It seemed like a good enough reason at the time, but Varric couldn’t help but wonder if there was another reason Fenris had adorned the symbol. He kept a mental note for the questions he would want to ask Hawke at a later time. Varric’s musings were put on hold when the Rivaini sauntered back into his room holding a wooden box with intricate designs painted all over it.

“What’s that?” Merrill asked in wonderment.

“Oh, just a little something that I was saving for a special occasion,” Isabela answered as she started to pry the box open.

“What’s so special about tonight?” Sebastion inquired.

“Nothing, really. But we are all in one room together, which doesn’t happen quite often, and I thought it would be a nice gesture to celebrate us all spending time together.”

Seven pairs of skeptical eyes glanced to each other around the table looking to see if anyone else caught on to what was most likely bullshit, while Isabela pulled out a large bottle, that was nestled into dense packing straw, filled with a tanned liquid.

“Isn’t she a beaut’?” she asked, admiring her prize. “A friend from Antiva sent it to me.”

“Oh, I know what that is. In Starkhaven we called it a bottle of trouble,” said Sebastian. “And we drank it profusely,” he added on with a chuckle.

“Is that…is that Antivan Fire Brandy?” Aveline asked while trying to read the bottle’s label. “I hear it’s almost as expensive as Orlesian chocolate. And just as coveted.”

“Yes, it is,” Isabela stated with a note of pride and uncorked the bottle. She savored the liquid’s scent before she placed the bottle under Hawke’s nose.

“It does have a really rich smell,” Hawke mused. “The most poignant scent I can make out is that of the bad decision I’m about to make.”

“That’s the spirit!” Isabela exclaimed, while she put the box aside and took her seat.

Fenris reached his hand across Hawke, offering his cup to Isabela for a taste of the liquor.

“Not so fast. Although, I do appreciate your enthusiasm, sweet thing,” Isabela said with a smirk, to which Fenris rolled his eyes…again. “If you want a taste you’re going to have to work for it.”

“What do you have in mind, Rivaini? First person to find you a new ship gets a taste?” Varric asked.

“That would be ideal, but nothing so grandiose. I propose a game.”

“What kind of game?” Aveline asked carefully.

“It’s occurred to me that even though we spend a decent amount of time together we don’t know a whole lot about each other. There is a perfect game we could play that would rectify that and allow us to enjoy this succulent, heavenly nectar of the gods at the same time. Come on, we never do anything really fun,” Isabela pleaded.

“It sounds like fun. I’m in. How does it work?” Merrill asked.

“That’s my girl, Kitten,” Isabela said excitedly. “Varric, get us some parchment and charcoal. We’ll rip up the parchment into smaller pieces, and everyone will take about three to five pieces and write something on each one; something that either they have done in the past, something they couldn’t imagine ever doing, or maybe something you already speculate someone at this table may have done.”

“This is going to end well,” Varric stated sarcastically, even though he left the table to rummage for the items. He wouldn’t tell the others, but he was excited for the information he could learn from a game like that. Only out of curiosity, of course. Not for professional license. So he told himself.

“We put all the slips of parchment into a bowl, we each get a cup of brandy, and then we take turns going around the table to read one of the slips. And if you have ever done what the slip says you sip your drink,” Isabela finished explaining.

“You want us to play Never Have I Ever? The kids game?” Anders admonished.

“You allow children to play drinking games?” Merrill asked horrified.

“Not young children,” Anders corrected. “Teenagers, young adults. Those who haven’t yet learned to form mature thoughts,” he said directing his gaze at the pirate. “We used to attempt to play it in the circle.”

“Attempt to play it?” Sebastian inquired.

“Yes, attempt. Every effort to play always ended up with a bunch of us sitting together for hours never getting drunk, none of us ever having done anything because we all lived in the bloody circle.”

“I can see it now.” Hawke chuckled. “Someone saying ‘Never have I ever allowed myself to get possessed by a demon, a few mages drinking, and a group of Templars running in to drag them away.”

“You jest, but that could have actually happened,” Anders replied.

“Well, there’s no Templars here, so we’re safe. Carver had duty tonight.”

“Shut it, you two. Don’t tell me you’re all going to be sticks in the mud. There are more than enough of those in this town. Come on, everyone will have a good laugh, we’ll enjoy a good drink, and walk away knowing a bit more about each other,” Isabela whined.

“Oh, yes, you’re right. I don’t see how any of this could go wrong,” Hawke added sarcastically with a sigh, and Isabela’s face fell a bit. “Oh, fine. Give me some parchment and fill my cup. Let’s go and get this over with.” 

Strips of parchment and pieces of charcoal were passed around the table while the bottle of brandy also made its rounds for everyone to fill their cup. The next few minutes were spent with everyone bent over their parchment thinking of scenarios they thought would get a rise out of the rest of the table. Every once in a while Varric saw Fenris nudge Hawke, looking for some help with what he assumed was his spelling since she had become his would-be teacher.

Once everyone was done writing they put their submissions into a bowl in the middle of the table, some of them with expressions of amusement as they did so.

“Some of you are having fun already, I see,” Isabela said. “All right then, Merrill, since you won the last card game, you can go first.”

Merrill reached her hand into the bowl, shuffling the small pieces of parchment before she pulled one out. “Do I just read it?” she asked as she unfolded it.

“You have to say ‘never have I ever’ first,” Anders answered.

“Okay, let’s see. Never have I ever—oh, dear—seen Hawke naked,” Merrill finished quickly.

Each of the companions curiously looked around the table while Hawke appeared to be both equal parts offended and worried.

“Is no one really going to drink to that?” Isabela asked, genuinely curious. “You have to be completely honest.”

Right before the next person was to reach into the bowl Fenris sighed and brought his cup to his lips.

“Nooooo!” Isabela exclaimed in surprise, and Fenris held her gaze as he took his first sip. She was about to ask him to clarify the event but was interrupted by Fenris breaking into a violent fit of coughing. 

“They don’t call it Fire Brandy for nothing,” Isabela said with a smirk.

“I think I just—” Fenris coughed again, his voice rasped by trying to speak around the prevalent burn leftover by the brandy in his throat. “—discovered what they use to make Qunari Black Powder,” he finished with a few more coughs, garnering some chuckles from the group.

Hawke placed her hand on Fenris’ back, patting and circling her hand. “Breathe through it. Just breathe through it,” she teased.

“Is that the same mantra he needed when seeing you naked?” Anders asked in an effort to make fun, but a twinge of jealousy could be heard in his voice. Fenris was still too busy coughing to glare at the mage.

“I’m not going to survive this, am I?” Merrill asked, looking into her drink.

“Daisy, I don’t think Isabela plans on any of us surviving this,” Varric answered.

Ignoring Merrill and Varric, Isabala prodded, “When did you see her naked?”

“Yes, Fenris, when?” Hawke challenged.

“The Deep Roads,” he answered, his voice now recovering.

“You saw me naked in the Deep Roads?” Hawke asked, surprised, and Fenris nodded.

“It was when we were trying to get some rest on our way back to the surface, and Varric was…sleeping noisily,” Fenris started to explain.

“Hey, it’s stuffy down there. It bothers my sinuses,” was Varric’s excuse.

“I moved to the room adjacent to where we camped and slept in there. A few hours later something woke me. I went to grab my sword, but I saw it was you trying to wash yourself. It was too dark for you to see me in the corner.”

“And you just sat there and watched?” Hawke asked.

“You were already unclothed when I awoke. I thought it best that you be… unaware of my presence.”

“Better for you.” Hawke said.

“Can you describe what you saw, or better yet, can you draw it?” Isabela requested.

“I am no artist,” Fenris answered, but he grabbed some parchment and charcoal anyway. A few moments later he handed his drawing to Isabela, to which she guffawed and showed it to Hawke. 

“Wow, you really got me to look quite thin,” Hawke complimented and encouraged Isabela to show the others. They all laughed when they saw that the drawing was just a stick figure with two circles for breasts. “After that amazing artist depiction you’ve now all seen me naked. Curiosity sated. Shall we move on? Sebastian, I believe you’re next.” 

“I don’t know that I can concentrate with that image in my mind, but I’ll give it my best shot,” he joked, and reached his hand into the bowl to grab a slip of parchment.

“Never have I ever gone skinny dipping with friends,” he read before taking a sip of his drink. He was followed by everyone but Fenris and Varric, causing those who did drink to cough as violently as Fenris did.

“Smooth, isn’t it?” Fenris asked, posing his question to Hawke.

“Quite,” she rasped painfully.

“Rivaini, are you sure this is only liquor and not the Antivan Fire that they put into their grenades?” Varric asked, seeing everyones’ reaction to the brandy.

“You just need a few sips to get used to it,” Isabela said with her own raspy voice. “Who’s next?”

Fenris reached for a slip of parchment from the bowl and unfolded it. He read it completely with narrowed eyes, trying not to take too long, before saying it out loud to the group. “Never have I ever fallen in love,” he said lowly, averting his gaze from the rest of the table, and making sure not to even have a hand placed on his cup. 

Everyone but Fenris drank, and Varric noticed Hawke watch the elf from the corner of her eye, with what could be interpreted as disappointment on her normally easy features. Interesting indeed, Varric thought to himself.

“Isabela, you’ve fallen in love?” Merrill asked inquisitively.

“Hawke’s next. Let’s go,” was all the pirate said.

“You won’t tell us who?” Merrill prodded again.

“Come on, Hawke. You’re taking too long.”

Hawke reached into the bowl quickly, saving her friend from having to share, and grabbed a slip of parchment.

“Let’s see, here. Never have I ever put cow manure in someone’s mince meat pie to get revenge,” she read, recognizing the handwriting as belonging to Anders. “What? You think just because I grew up on a farm in Lothering that I’m some kind of uncivilized animal?”

“I’ve heard stories about the people there. I was curious.”

“Manure in food? Ugh, that’s just… Anyway, for revenge everyone knows you put it in someone’s shoes, you barbarian,” Hawke said causing Anders to laugh. 

“I knew it. I knew you got your hands in the stuff, oh noble woman of Kirkwall.”

“Check your boots tomorrow,” she warned playfully.

“We did that to a hunter in our clan, except it was halla dung. We were very young at the time. Got in a good amount of trouble for it.” Merrill offered.

“What did they do to deserve that?” Aveline asked.

“He thought it would be fun to scare us by telling some of us that if startled the halla will eat small children. A few children were taking too long to learn to respect the animals. He was hoping that would solve the problem. Instead he got a shoe full of dung. He never told us wacky stories again.”

“I didn’t think the Dalish would play such pranks on each other,” Anders said.

“We are people, Anders. Just like you.”

“Hm,” was his only response.

“All right, my turn,” Isabela said, grabbing a slip from the bowl. “Never have I ever had my clothes stolen from me making me have to walk home nude.”

Aveline, Varric, Anders, and Sebastian took a drink. 

“As if I need more reasons to hate my brother,” Varric said.

“Older brothers can be cruel,” Sebastian added.

“Most young people are cruel,” Aveline said.

“Wardens are cruel. Especially saucy Warden Commanders,” Anders said.

“The Warden Commander did that to you?” Hawke asked unable to hide her chuckle.

“Yes, she did. Should we be surprised that she’s your cousin? You Amell’s are trouble makers.”

“I won’t argue with that,” Hawke complied.

Varric was next to reach into the bowl. “Never have I ever played a stupid, childish drinking game. Well, I guess we’re all drinking to that one.” Everyone took a sip of their brandy.

“Who’s the spoil sport who wrote that?” Isabella asked.

“I’m not going to name names, but the choppy handwriting speaks for itself,” Varric said handing the slip of parchment to Isabela.

She looked to Fenris. “You’re lucky to be finally engaging in these ‘rights of passage’ activities. And with such an amazing group of people. You ungrateful wretch. You should be kissing my boots in gratitude for this amazing opportunity…” she continued on dramatically.

“You’re right, Isabela. My apologies. Now if we could continue, I only need a little more of this to help me enjoy the game,” Fenris said lifting his cup.

Anders, taking his turn, pulled a slip from the bowl. After unfolding it he narrowed his eyes and tilted the parchment to either side to help him examine it. “This handwriting…it’s atrocious. I don’t even know if I can read it. Let’s see. Never have I ever… allowed a—and then the word demon is crossed out—‘fade spirit’—in quotation marks—to possess me and turn me into an ab…nom…nation. I’m assuming that was supposed to be abomination,” he said as he gave Fenris a hate-filled glare.

Fenris, not being deterred by Anders’ critique positioned himself cooly with his left arm resting on the table and his right across the back of Hawke’s chair. “Well? Have you?” he asked, goading the mage.

“Do you even have a soul?” Anders asked before taking a sip of his brandy.

“I do, in fact. Only the one, as well,” Fenris answered, followed by a light laugh from Hawke.

“Are you enjoying the game now, Fenris?” Hawke asked.

“Quite,” Fenris answered.

“You think his behavior is funny?” Anders asked, insulted.

“No, it’s not that. It’s the both of you,” Hawke explained. “I haven’t heard bickering the likes from the two of you since my twin siblings were young. Listening to you two…it’s like being back home in Lothering again,” she said wistfully.

“What do you want me to do, Hawke? Go over to his estate and bake cookies? He refuses to trust me or be civil with me no matter how many times he’s used my services. Magic is only good when it’s convenient for him.”

“No one would want your abomination cookies, anyway,” Fenris muttered while picking away a piece of lint from his sleeve.

“Abomination cookies.” Isabela chuckled the words. “They’re like two cookies in one,” she snorted, garnering more chuckles from around the table.

“I’m using that. Better write it down so I don’t forget,” Varric said as he started scrawling across an extra piece of parchment.

“Make sure you credit me,” Isabela demanded.

“Would you like me to credit you as ‘Captain Isabela’ or ‘Pirate Queen Isabela’?”

“Oh, Pirate Queen. Definitely.”

“Yes, yes. Everyone is a comedian. Aveline would you please, for the love of Andraste, take your turn?” Anders begged.

“Gladly,” she complied, sticking her hand into the bowl and unfolded a piece of parchment. “Never have I ever shortchanged my companions with the pay earned for completing a job.” 

Suddenly, Hawke was under the stare of seven people, waiting to see if she would drink her brandy or not.

“What? Why would someone write that? Do you really all think I do that?” Hawke asked, offended.

“It is suspicious that you live a high class life now, and Varric still lives at The Hanged Man when you were supposed to split your profits from the Deep Roads,” Sebastian teased.

“That is his choice. No one in Hightown will listen to his stories. How ever would he survive?”

“It’s true, Choir Boy. You’d have to drag me out of here,” Varric said.

“Just for that, you’re receiving one less sovereign than everyone else from now on,” Hawke said to Sebastian. 

“That’s fine. The Maker will make sure I’m properly reimbursed for my services.”

“Oh, that’s right. I forgot that you and the Maker were BFF’s. He thwarts my plans again.”

“Merrill, if you’d like to take your next turn before Hawke completely blasphemes?” Sebastian requested, and she reached into the bowl.

“Never have I ever had the tat—oh, my,” Merrill said, and then stopped quickly, a blush blooming upon her cheeks, and she quickly glanced to Fenris. “I don’t want to read the rest. I don’t think anyone should read it. Can I pick again?” Her words came in an embarrassed rush. 

“Come on, Kitten. This is part of the fun. Now, what’s it say?” Isabela encouraged, and Merrill’s eyes again went to Fenris before another blush rose upon her face.

“No. It’s not a good idea. Especially from me,” Merrill refused, again with her gaze having fallen on Fenris, who reached across the table and plucked the parchment from her hand.

Fenris’ eyes scanned the slip of paper, taking on an annoyed glint. When he finished reading he turned his glare on Isabela. “Does your curiosity have no boundries?” Anger infused his tone.

“Drink or don’t drink, sweet thing. But refusing to drink is an admission that what’s on that paper is not true,” Isabela stated coyly, which made Fenris only glare more impressively. 

Fenris put his hand on his cup and pointedly slid it a few inches away from himself. “Does that answer your question?” he asked harshly.

“Huh, I don’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed,” Isabela mused.

“Disappointed? You’d fetishize that kind of torture toward me? That’s despicable, even for you.”

“What, in the Maker’s name, did you write?” Hawke asked and snatched the parchment before Fenris could keep it from her. She read the paper to herself, mouthing the words audibly. “Had the tattoos that cover my body extend to my pe—. Isabela! What is wrong with you?”

“Oh, don’t tell me you weren’t curious, too,” Isabela chided. 

“I…no, I…that’s…” Hawke sputtered before she finally composed herself. “Even if you are curious, perhaps our little public setting that we have isn’t the best place to voice those curiosities.”

“Are you kidding? As if I’d do it alone with him and risk him sticking his hand into me. And not in the fun way.” 

“Sebastian, for the love of all that is righteous, would you please take your turn? Now,” Fenris begged.

“Yes, absolutely,” Sebastian agreed. “Never have I ever given Fenris all the best loot we find because I think he’s cute,” he finished with a chuckle, and Fenris groaned, putting his face in his hand. 

“What kind of operation do you people think I run?” Hawke asked. “If you think for one minute that I would favor one of you over the rest because of some petty physical attraction you are all sorely mistaken.” She paused her annoyed speech to take a quick sip of her drink. “Really, the gall some of you have disturbs me to my very core.”

“She drank! She does do it,” Merrill was quick to point out.

“I knew it,” Varric said.

“I’m disappointed in all of you,” Hawke continued and took another sip. “You think so lowly of me as to behave with such prejudice when it comes to fairly compensating you.” She took another sip. “Where is the gratitude for being there for all of you?” Another sip. “After everything I’ve done for each of you.” She sipped again. “I’m hurt.” She finished with a last sip of her drink. “I hope I’ve made myself clear.”

“In more ways than one, Hawke,” Aveline said. “Fenris, I think it’s safe for you to take your next turn now.”

“It has been made abundantly clear that nothing at this table is safe,” he said in answer with his head drawn down, obviously trying to hide behind his hair.

“Are you blushing?” Isabela asked. “Look at him, he’s blushing. He’s bright red. I’ve never seen you blush before.”

Hoping to turn the attention away from himself, Fenris ignored Isabela and reached into the bowl for a slip of parchment he hoped would bring a drastic subject change.

“Never have I ever—,” he began to read. “—had a threesome with the King of Ferelden and the Hero of Ferelden.” 

Isabela took an enthusiastic sip from her drink.

“I speculated,” Anders said. “She hinted at something like that happening but never gave the details.

“You did not,” Hawke said in disbelief.

“Did you not just see me take a drink?”

“When did this happen? With the king? With the king and my cousin?”

“Oh, he wasn’t even king at the time; didn’t even know he would be. It was still during the blight. But him and your cousin came into the Pearl, and she gave me an offer I couldn’t refuse. Apparently, Alistair couldn’t refuse it, either. It really was something,” Isabela said wistfully.

“Huh, the king and my cousin. With Isabela,” Hawke mused as she reached into the bowl for a piece of parchment. “Let’s see, here. Never have I ever been made a hypocrite when I almost killed another mage because I’m an abomination.” Hawke cringed, realizing only when she finished that maybe she shouldn’t have read the paper.

“Bloody Andraste, how I hate you, elf,” Anders said venomously before taking a sip of his brandy. Although, a few of the companions could’t help but chuckle a little at Anders’ and Fenris’ antics.

“Drink up, mage,” Fenris said with a half smile and a wink.

“Alcohol makes you annoyingly saucy,” Anders added.

“Moving on for the safety of the table,” Isabela said as she dipped her hand into the bowl. “Never have I ever taken advantage of Aveline’s position as guard captain.”

Everyone except Aveline drank.

“Now, none of you forget where your freedoms come from,” Aveline said.

“To Aveline!” Hawke toasted a second time, meeting her friends’ cups in the middle of the table while they toasted to Aveline, too. “Varric, you’re up,” Hawke said when the toast ended, and the dwarf grabbed a piece of parchment from the bowl.

“Never have I ever tried to delude myself that blood mages are dangerous but myself being possessed is safe. Fenris,” Varric chuckled the name. “Something tells me you are on thin ice with Blondie.” 

“Oh, no. Not at all, Varric. Why would I be upset about such ignorance and cruelty?,” Heated sarcasm imbued Anders’ words. “I will say that he’s lucky I’m in control enough to hold back Justice.”

“Stop holding back, then,” Fenris suggested. “I’m sure he’s more deserving of the drinks you’ve taken tonight. He is to blame for every one of your actions you cannot justify.” 

Hawke placed her hand on Fenris’ arm in warning while the atmosphere at the table became a bit too uncomfortable to bear. “I think you’ve made your point.”

“No, it’s fine, Hawke. He’s led a very tragic and repressed life, and I don’t want to interfere with the lessons you’ve given him about him not needing to bear any consequences for his behavior,” Anders said in a false lighthearted tone. “It’s not as if I’m not an adult who can be reasonable with others. It’s not as if I’d do something to try to teach him a lesson of my own.”

Keeping his eyes on Fenris, Anders took a sip of his drink and placed the cup back on the table before reaching into the bowl to take a slip of parchment. He unfolded the paper, and, while never breaking eye contact, said, “Never have I ever led Hawke on to believe that I cared for her, had sex with her, then immediately left her after getting my kicks, breaking her heart, leaving her a blubbering mess and someone else’s problem.”

All the companions stared at Anders slack-jawed, then moved their attention to Fenris and Hawke, searching for one of them to either admit to or deny the story. What they found was a feral, murderous expression on Fenris and a shocked and betrayed expression on Hawke’s.

“I believe the rules of the game require to take a sip of your drink, Fenris,” Anders said haughtily.

“Perhaps show us what the paper actually says,” Fenris seethed.

Seeing the hurt on Hawke’s face, Aveline moved to take the parchment from Anders, but he quickly switched it to his left hand and engulfed in a small fireball, incinerating it immediately, making Varric flinch.

“Blood of the Maker, don’t do that so close to me,” Varric admonished.

“That’s what it said. Drink up, Fenris,” Anders said, goading the elf.

Fenris, too proud to ignore the mage, took his cup and downed the rest of his drink. The painful burn it caused was apparent on his face, but he held back the violent coughing that that much of the Fire Brandy should have caused with impressive control. Shocked murmurs traveled around the table.

“It’s true?!” Isabela exclaimed. “Varric, I need more parchment. Right now,” she said, wanting to add more quick submissions to the bowl to try to get more details. “Fenris, you really could have told a much more interesting story about seeing Hawke naked.”

“Anders?” Hawke wanted answers from her so-called friend.

“Your mother told me.”

“My mother?”

“She was worried about you. I stopped by to drop off some poultices, but she said that you wouldn’t have guests no matter what the circumstance. So she confided her worries to me. Did you know that she greatly disapproves of Fenris but finds me inexplicably charming?”

“Don’t fool yourself, Blondie. You have only to tell Leandra about your…extra passenger and she’d pick Hawke up and throw her at Fenris.”

Ignoring Varric’s jibe, Anders continued. “Do you know what Hawke’s mother told me, Fenris?”

“Anders,” Hawke said in warning.

“She told me that she’d never seen Hawke cry so hard in her life.” 

Fenris grabbed Hawke’s cup, that was still over half full with brandy, and hastily downed its contents, this time unable to hold back his coughing completely.

“So, did you have fun hurting Hawke like that after everything she’s done for you?” Anders asked spitefully. “How many more ways do you plan on taking advantage of her?” 

Fenris attempted to back his chair away from the table to get up, but his movement wavered and he stayed in his seat. He then tried to focus his eyes on anyone at the table, but his eyes searched and blinked before they finally rolled in the back of his head and his head and shoulders crashed onto the table.

“We probably shouldn’t have let him drink that much of this brandy. Smaller amounts have been known to do that to people, “Isabela mused.

“I can’t believe you,” Hawke said to Anders. “What did I do to deserve your ire?”

Anders tried to come up with something to say to appease Hawke but found no acceptable words. “Nothing,” he said with a sigh. “He pushed me too far. I pushed back. I’m sorry you were in the middle. I won’t do it again.” With those final words Anders got up from the table and left Varric’s room to exit the tavern.

“You seriously better check your boots tomorrow!” Hawke shouted after him.

“Well, Varric, you owe me four sovereigns,” Isabela said.

“What were you two betting on?” Aveline asked.

“Who would be the first to succumb to the brandy,” Isabela answered. “Varric thought it would be Merrill, given her size and alcohol tolerance, but I used smarts. I knew those two would be at each others’ throats and who’d be more likely to want to check-out first.”

“You were both in on this game, then?” Merrill inquired.

“Of course, Daisy,” Varric answered. “Do you think Rivaini could dream up this amount of fuckery on her own?”

“Well, it certainly was an interesting night. I’ll give you that,” Aveline said. 

“Oh, you loved it, big girl,” Isabela said.

“There were some memorable highlights to the evening,” Aveline conceded. “Perhaps we should wait until we’re all sober before discussing them. Thanks for the brandy. And both you and Hawke owe me for the chocolates.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll get them for you,” Isabela agreed.

“Merrill, would you like me to walk you home?” Aveline offered as she stood from the table.

“Yes, thank you. I’d appreciate that,” Merrill accepted, and followed Aveline out of the room while she said goodbye to her remaining friends and gave well wishes to an unconscious Fenris.

“Well, I better get him a room for the night,” Hawke said. “I won’t be able to carry him back to Hightown.”

“Nonsense,” Varric admonished. “He can stay here. There are extra blankets I can put on the floor to make a bedroll.”

“Varric, he’s passed out on Antivan Fire Brandy. In a couple hours he’s going to wake up and vomit for about thirty minutes straight, and then groan in pain for another hour before he passes out again. Rethink your offer,” Isabela suggested.

“On second thought, maybe you better see what Corff has available,” Varric said, changing his mind.

“I’ll see about getting the room and then help you carry him there.” Sebastian got up to complete his self-assigned task.

“Thank you, Sebastian,” Hawke said gratefully.

“So, it’s going to be pretty bad for him?” Hawke asked Isabela regarding Fenris’ near future.

“Oh, yes. He’ll probably never want to drink again. He’ll be hungover for a good two days with how much he had.”

“Two days?!”

“Unfortunately. I’d suggest getting him as big a meal as he’ll agree to as soon as he’s willing to eat anything.”

“Fantastic.”

“Is what Anders said true? Did Fenris really hurt you that badly?” Isabela asked carefully.

“Anders doesn’t have the whole story. Neither does my mother.” Hawke swept the hair away from Fenris’ eyes. “Fenris and I have an understanding now. There’s nothing to be concerned about,” Hawke said, noticeably deflecting the question.

“Then can you tell me about the other things he did to you? Oh, I have so many questions.”

Hawke answered her pirate friend with a playfully saluted, rude hand gesture. The three friends laughed as she did so.

“His room is all set; right down the hall,” Sebastian announced, making his way back into the room.

“Thank the Maker Corff had something available this late,” Hawke said as Sebastian positioned himself on Fenris’ left side while Hawke was at his right. They both put one of Fenris’ arms behind their necks and stood him up to carry him out of the room while he sagged in their grasp.

“I don’t envy her tonight,” Isabela mused to Varric when it was only the two of them left at the table.

“Not even a little bit. A night with a disgruntled, vengeful, hungover ex-slave? Maker be with her,” Varric said taking a sip of his brandy. “Before I forget, here’s your four sovereigns.”

“Thank you very much,” Isabela said, enjoying the clinking sound of the coins in her hand. “Would you say tonight was successful?” 

“That depends on what you mean by successful. If you mean that we got our motley crew to unwind and enjoy each others’ company, than no. But if you are referring to us completing a bet, and getting our friends to divulge secrets to us that they never would have otherwise, then yes.”

“Then cheers, my short friend.” Isabela raised her cup. “To successful nights,” she toasted.

“To successful nights,” Varric agreed and raised his cup in turn. “So, one more game of Wicked Grace?”

“You’re just looking to win back your sovereigns.”

“I’ll match your coin, and winner takes all in one game.”

“I won’t say no to that bet. You’re on.”

With that Varric excitedly shuffled and dealt the cards for one last game for the night.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading.


End file.
